


Eyes of the Moon God

by chibi_nightowl, TaneKore



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Ancient Egypt AU, Angst and Tragedy, Betrayal, Eventual Romance, Historical Fantasy, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-05 22:51:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20281174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi_nightowl/pseuds/chibi_nightowl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaneKore/pseuds/TaneKore
Summary: “What in the name of Ra is this? That’s not how it happened.”“Shhh...this is how I’m telling the story.”“That’s bullshit is what it is. You’re supposed to be the ultimate storyteller.”“I suppose you think you can do better?”“Listen and learn,Archivist.”





	Eyes of the Moon God

**Author's Note:**

> It's finally here. It's happening. The AU that TaneKore and I have been collaborating on for what's close to two years now. And this is a collaboration, folks. This story, this world, would not be what it is without TK and her absolutely amazing partnership. I'm so proud of what we've managed to accomplish. Buckle in, it's time for a long ride!

_Once upon a time in a faraway land, the god of the moon was growing weary of his dull existence. Day after day, night after night, it was all the same. Creating a human avatar to interact with his followers only brought him so much joy, and the god became increasingly listless, dull and numb with the monotony of it all. But one day, the Moon God’s world was upended when he met a young urchin who would help him see life through a new set of eyes. _  
  
_ He gifted this child with extraordinary talents so that he could bring peace and prosperity to the land..._  
  
“What in the name of Ra is this? That’s not how it happened.”  
  
“Shhh...this is how I’m telling the story.”  
  
“That’s bullshit is what it is. You’re supposed to be the ultimate storyteller.”  
  
“I suppose you think you can do better?”  
  
“Listen and learn, _Archivist_.”

* * *

  
  
A long time ago, along the shores of a cerulean sea, an island city sat nestled within the fingers of the mighty Got’ham River. The city was a jewel in an otherwise barren landscape, with the endless sands of the Khalij al’Sahra whispering only a few short leagues away. It was a location of strategic importance because Lower Got’ham was more than just a trading mecca – it was also the first line of defense against covetous raiders who dared to strike from land or sea. Heavily fortified, the limestone walls contained stone that was carved from the same quarries far up the mighty river that were used in the tombs of the great kings of past and present. 

Armies had crashed upon those walls, only to be turned away in sound defeat. The Pharaoh’s army praised the glory of Ra for their victory, but the people of Lower Got’ham gave praise also to Thoth, their patron god. The Sun belonged to Upper Got’ham and the Pharaoh’s summer court, but the Moon belonged to the shores of the sea.

Records of battles past were stored in the vast libraries of the Temple of the Moon, as well as the histories of the Pharaohs and the gods of the mighty pantheon that maintained _ma’at_ throughout the realms, of this world and the next, and in the skies above. The libraries of the Moon God were said to contain all the words ever written in the kingdom and to the priests who cared for this collection, it certainly felt as though that were true. Even the most renowned of scholars, the Archivist of the Moon God, the third highest ranked priest of the cult of Thoth, had not fully plumbed its depths. 

As the saying went in the temple, there was no treasure greater than the written word. Thoth gifted hieroglyphs to the kingdom as a means to preserve order and harmony, to help maintain the delicate balance between light and darkness. 

But the Temple of the Moon also boasted another treasure, one that went far beyond the scope of simple words. 

Once every generation, Thoth placed a sacred mark upon a member of his priesthood, bestowing upon them the gift of prophecy. The Seer of the Moon God, along with the Oracle of the Sun Goddess Ra, viewed the world through the eyes of their respective gods. These visions made them invaluable to the Pharaoh, whose reign was guided by their words. This priest of Thoth was integral to the protection and prosperity of the kingdom, but after the death of the previous Seer, the Moon God had yet to choose a replacement. 

For over ten long years the position was left vacant. The High Priest beseeched his god to select a new Seer, but even during the annual moon festival honoring Thoth, his pleas fell on deaf ears. Thoth’s _ka_ remained absent and as the decade came to a close, the priests of the Moon God started to despair. 

None of this meant a single thing to the young street urchin Jason, born in the lower levels of the city to a poor weaver and a foreign sailor who had long abandoned these shores. His mother said that his father’s ship sank in a storm, but he knew better, having heard her alternating between ranting and weeping when she’d been able to barter for wine, not that they had much to barter with. Her slow illness and an addiction to opium for the pain from it left her weak and lethargic, her fingers barely able to work a loom anymore. 

Life hadn’t been easy for the boy and becoming his mother’s caregiver was difficult, but she was all Jason had left. He did what he had to in order to make sure there was food in their mouths and a roof over their heads. On her lucid days, which were becoming rarer, she would sometimes ask what Jason did to provide for her now that she could no longer care for him. 

He would do his best to evade this question, not wanting to discuss what he did when times were really bad, and thieving wasn’t enough. When the floods came, the waters brought life for so many, but they had to escape for higher ground, leaving their small home on the unprotected banks outside the city walls. They still needed food and shelter, but there was only so much a boy of his age was able to offer in exchange for both. There were plenty of rich men in Lower Got’ham who enjoyed his attentions and Jason did whatever they asked of him, even if the act turned his stomach and made him retch once he was done. He would never tell his mother what he’d endured. Instead, she’d look at him with world-weary eyes and he’d say, “I’ve got quick fingers and even faster feet, Mom. What more do I need?” 

Jason was pretty sure she didn’t entirely believe him, but she didn’t press. On those nights, she’d hold him close and tell stories about the gods and the wonders of the afterlife. As a lifelong resident of Lower Got’ham, she was a follower of the Moon God and made sure he knew the proper observances so that Thoth would look on them favorably. Jason knew better than to run his mouth over what he really thought of her prayers and offerings. She was delicate enough, and he didn’t need to add to her pain by questioning her faith. 

As far as he was concerned, the gods were a waste of time, a belief that would likely send him into exile if it were ever vocalized. In a life such as his, there were few choices afforded to him, and Jason didn’t need the _God of Wisdom and Serenity_ to guide him. 

It was a shame there was no god of thieves. He’d build an altar to them if there was one. 

Legitimate work was hard to come by for a boy his age, so he generally relied on his skills as a thief and a pickpocket to keep them fed. Getting caught was not an option. A boy with no hands may as well toss himself into the river and let a crocodile or a hippo put him out of his misery. But Jason learned from what he witnessed happen to others and foraged in places that those in his same predicament would never dare to go. 

Such as the gardens of the Temple of Thoth, the Moon God.

Jason was an excellent climber, and had no problem scaling the wall and right up into the old fig tree whose branches provided ample support for a young boy. The early morning light was weak as the sun kissed the edge of the horizon, but even in the shadows of the leaves, he easily managed to find the fruit he’d been searching for. 

His belly and pouch full, Jason jumped from the thick branch and grabbed hold of the wall, feeling rather smug about a job well done and how his mother would appreciate the ripe fruit. She hadn’t looked well when he left earlier, and he was eager to return home. 

As he hoisted himself over the top, a shout broke the still air.

“Thief!”

Jason didn’t even bother looking behind him and started running as soon as his bare feet touched the ground. This early, it could only be directed at him. Turning a sharp corner around the edge of the temple, he ran face first into what felt like a stone wall. 

A strong hand clasped tight around his wrist and yanked him upright so that he barely touched the ground. “Well, this is a nice way to start my day,” the temple guard commented. “You’re the little thief who’s been sneaking into our garden.” 

Damn. And here he’d thought no one had noticed. Jason struggled futilely against the strong grip. “I didn’t do nuthin’!”  
  
“Right,” the guard replied, not buying it for a second as he poked at the full pouch tied around Jason’s waist. “So, it wasn’t you Novice Dick saw climbing out of the temple garden?”  
  
It was hard to deny this considering his hands were still sticky, and his pouch bulged with evidence. Of course, his luck had to finally go sideways because of some sharp-eyed wannabe priest.   
  
“I dunno what yer talkin’ about,” he tried again and twisted harder to try and escape the guard’s grip. 

The man ripped the pouch from Jason’s waist. “I think you do. You know what happens to thieves, right?” He gestured to the broad knife tucked into his belt. 

Jason gulped. Oh, he knew very well. “Please, sir. I won’t do it again. I swear,” he implored, heart hammering as he watched the guard reach for the knife. 

“Once a thief, always a thief. Which hand do you want to lose?”  
  
“This seems a little excessive for some figs,” a new voice commented from behind the guard.   
  
They turned to look at the newcomer, not that Jason had much say in the matter, dangling as he was. He gaped because he didn’t think he’d ever seen a more beautiful man in his life. Even in the early morning light, his skin was pale, unlike himself and the guard who were both darkly tanned from the sun. Wavy black hair framed his face, with ibis feathers woven into the strands over an ear, but the fact the man did not shave his head was a sign that he was of the priesthood, and the high priesthood at that. 

But it was his eyes that stood out the most. Pale blue, almost gray, they gleamed in the weak light like a cat.  
  
“My apologies, Archivist,” the guard replied with a short bow, still not letting go of Jason’s skinny wrist, but his arm lowered so that his toes could find purchase on the ground. “We found a thief this morning.” 

Shit. This guy wasn’t just a priest. He was a Moon priest.  
  
Jason glared, sullen and angry because his mother had warned him to never lie to one of the Moon priests, that the white eye of Thoth saw everything. All the fight drained out of him. “Fine,” he said, digging the heel of one bare foot into the dirt. “I stole figs.”  
  
“Why?” the blue-eyed priest asked simply.   
  
“Why d’ya think?” Jason snapped, daring to look up at the man and those strange eyes. “I got no money and my mom’s sick. Not everyone can afford t’go see Serket’s priests.”  
  
“They accept offerings,” the guard started to say but Jason snorted in derision.   
  
“What good does that do when we got nothin’ to offer?” He yanked his arm again and this time, the guard let go.   
  
“The high priestess never turns anyone away,” the priest (Archivist? What was that even?) said with a calm tone.   
  
Jason made a face. “Tell that to the priest who did.”  
  
The guard and the priest (he settled on priest, it was easier) were giving him looks of pity. No. No, he didn’t want their pity.   
  
The blue-eyed priest approached the guard and held out his hand for Jason’s pouch. The guard gave it over wordlessly for the man to inspect. After a moment, he returned it to Jason. The guard looked like he wanted to protest but bit his tongue. 

“Here.” His fingers were cool as they wrapped Jason’s small hands around the poorly woven linen. “We can spare you these.”  
  
He wanted to swear at him, shout that he didn’t need his charity, but the truth was, he really did. His mom had to eat to maintain any strength and, as much as he hated the opium, he knew it helped with the pain. There hadn’t been anything to barter for it recently and it was showing as she slept more and more.

“Thanks,” Jason said, swallowing his pride and bowing slightly even as he glared at the two men. 

Backing up a few steps, he kept them both in sight until he felt he was far enough away if the priest changed his mind. And then, quick as a snake, Jason darted off down the road as fast as his legs would carry him. 

* * *

Tim watched pensively as the boy ran away. He was tired after a long night and had just finished his daily meeting with Steph to greet the Sun and put the Moon to bed. Some things in his long existence he could do without, but the golden-haired woman never failed to bring a smile to his face. Even after all these years, she still had next to no tact whatsoever and insisted on filling his ears with the latest stories their followers had invented.

They were quite creative, he’d grant them that. 

The walk back to the temple normally helped clear his head so he could rest, but his usual musings were interrupted when he heard the commotion. What the boy said about the temple of Serket turning him and his mother away disturbed him as he knew Raven rather well. The goddess never refused help to anyone who crossed her threshold, a fact Tim knew well. But the boy was not lying, that much he was certain of. No human could lie to him and get away with it. His eyes saw through shadows and what were lies but truths hidden in darkness?  
  
Raven would not be pleased when she learned of what her priests were doing, that he was certain of.  
  
“Archivist?” the guard asked quietly, clearly not sure of what he should be doing now that the cheeky little urchin had been released. “Is all well with you?”  
  
“I’m fine,” Tim replied in a tight tone. “I’m going to follow that boy. Send word to the temple of Serket that we have need of healer here. I’ll be back soon with him and his mother or will send word of where we can be found.”  
  
With that, he started off down the street.   
  
“But Archivist!” The guard protested, calling after him. “He’s just a street rat. And he’s long gone now. He doesn’t deserve more of your charity.”  
  
Tim turned and glared, his mask of composure slipping as his patience disappeared. Who was this man to question him? “You do not judge who is in need of my help. As a member of this temple, it’s also well within your prerogative to assist those who need it. I suggest you ponder that on your trip to the healer’s temple.” 

The guard cowered under the force of his icy stare and nodded. “Yes, Archivist. At once.”

Rebuke issued, Tim continued on his way. The boy’s path was easy enough for one such as he to follow and even though he didn’t rush, the child was soon in sight as they entered the lower part of the city along the riverbanks, then across the river itself along one of the narrow footbridges than spanned the smaller islands surrounding the main part of the city. It was impressive how far the boy was willing to range for food as he led him further and further away from the temple.

Out here were the homes of farmers and laborers, people whose very livelihoods depended on the bounty provided by the river. Their lives were not easy, but they made the most of what was given to them. The current line of Pharaohs was a benevolent one, and the current ruler of the Upper and Lower Kingdom could even be said to abhor war if he were not one of the greatest tactical strategists Tim had ever seen in a human. The last war was won before it ever had a chance to start, which had Kon sighing in relief because he hated the utter waste of life. 

They all did. Life was precious. A gift. 

There were some who said the gods did not care, that they were too far removed from the lives of mortals, but that was far from the truth. If anything, it was easy to care too much, to become overly involved in their affairs. A certain amount of distance was needed in order for him and his brethren to perform their own duties, which were far more complex and convoluted than their followers could truly grasp. 

The light could not be overcome by darkness, by the primordial chaos the lingered around the edge of everything they’d created. It hungered, wanting nothing more than to swallow the sun in a feeble attempt to satisfy itself. But therein laid the conundrum. Chaos was never satisfied. 

This was why the gods created ma’at. Order, justice, and harmony, this stratagem was designed on purpose as a means to keep chaos at bay. For the most part, it worked. But humans were fickle and needed to be reminded at times that there were gods who watched over them from above and below. This was why he and Cassie had their Seers and Oracles, the eyes of the Moon God and the voice of the Sun Goddess from their respective homes in Lower Got’ham and Upper Got’ham, the sister city many leagues away up the great river. 

It weighed heavily on Tim that his temple did not have a new Seer after the last one was guided all too soon by Cass into Kon’s embrace. He knew he was doing these lands a disservice by waiting so long to select a replacement, but the right candidate had yet to make their appearance. Besides, after the circumstances in which the last one died, he refused to be rushed. The mystery was still unsolved, but he knew in the depths of his heart that it was murder. 

Who dared to kill one of his priests, let alone his Seer? Not a human, that much Tim was certain of. 

Pausing on his walk, he watched as the boy scrambled up and over a levy that would barely keep floodwaters from the lower levels of the city, nimble as a cat. Selina would like this one, he was sure of it. 

“That’s some fancy footwork.” 

Tim didn’t even spare Steph a glance as the goddess of the rising sun fell into step beside him. “I’ve half a mind to take him to Perbastet.” 

Steph laughed, bright as the sun rising higher overhead. “You do remember that Selina’s temple accepts only women, right?” 

“Such an outdated practice.” Tim climbed up the levy while his companion took the easier route and floated beside him.

“Perhaps but remember the Temple of Bast throws the best parties.” 

“Orgies, you mean.” 

“Tim, when will you get that stick out of your ass and fall into bed with someone?” Steph sighed and shook her head, golden curls falling in long locks over her bare shoulder. “We all thought that when you took this form, it was because you had your eye on a human.”

This was not the first time they’d had this discussion and Tim doubted it would be the last. He watched as the boy crossed another footbridge, one that landed him on the eastern bank of the mainland. Once more, he peered over his shoulder, the action casually affected. It dawned on Tim that the boy was watching his back, some instinct telling him he was being followed.

Well, he was, but it wasn’t as though he’d be able to spot him if he didn’t wish to be seen. It was a perk of being a god.

“You’re not even paying attention, are you?” 

“Nope.” 

“What’s so special about that urchin that he’s keeping you up past your bedtime?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. He stole figs from my temple earlier this morning.”

“Your temple?” Steph looked back at the city, rising tall and resplendent in the distance. “Wow. Kid’s got some range.” 

“He also said the Temple of Serket turned him and his mother away when they sought help for her illness.” 

Steph frowned and it was as though a cloud crossed briefly over the morning sun. “Raven never turns anyone away.”

“I know.”

“She has been deep in meditation again recently. It’s possible her healers have picked up on it.” 

A flash of irritation prodded Tim to keep going. “Regardless, when I’m done here, I think I’ll call on Raven and wake her up.” 

“Good. I swear she does this just so that she doesn’t have to talk to Cassie or me.”

“More like Selina, but you’re a close second.” 

“Hey!”

Tim laughed at his friend’s outrage. It was too easy to rile her up. 

They crossed the river channel and followed the narrow path that meandered along the shoreline. There were homes here, small and worn. This close to the river, they were amongst the first to feel the rising waters and it showed. Carefully patched and reinforced foundations, some better done than others, indicated the inhabitants of the area were preparing for the oncoming flood. Women packed their family’s belongings while keeping a wary eye on the riverbank. 

One house stood out from the rest, more dilapidated than the rest. Attempts had been made to care for it, that much was clear, but what caught his attention more was the fact that his sister Cass stood outside the doorway cradling a faintly flickering light. 

A _ka_. 

“Shit,” Tim murmured as the boy walked past Cass and into his home. Her dark eyes trailed after him, tinged with sadness.

Steph shook her head. “Looks like it’s too late for a healer.”

Their sister approached and nodded to them both. “This woman is one of yours, Tim,” Cass stated plainly. “And that boy – there’s something different about him. He is not a follower of Thoth, but his soul… Tim, he shines so brightly. It reminds me of the full moon rising and casting its light over the water.”

Tim grunted as Steph elbowed him hard in the side. “Sounds like Seer material to me,” she said, lips quirking upward. 

“Perhaps, but first, I have to deal with a young boy who’s just lost his mother.”

* * *

Jason couldn’t help but feel like he was being followed. Call it instinct, call it years of living on these streets. It was probably that pig-headed guard. He’d looked rather constipated when the priest let him keep the figs. Not wanting to make things easy for the man, but also not wanting to delay his arrival home any more than he needed to, he did his best to shake his tail, taking alleys and other back ways only someone as small as him could navigate. 

Despite his efforts, the feeling persisted. 

The sun had fully cleared the horizon by the time he made it back to the lowest part of the city that was commonly known as the Narrows. It was a small area to the south of the city along the main banks rather than on one of the islands and was the first to feel the annual flooding of the great river when it inevitably overflowed the dikes and levees. Seriously, whoever built those needed to be fed to a plague of locusts because as far as Jason was concerned, they did precisely _dick_. 

Each year, the people who lived here were forced to move to higher ground, leaving more and more of their home behind each time they did. Jason was nervous that this would be the year the river finally claimed it all. The foundations had nearly washed away in the previous flood and, while he’d done his best to shore them up upon their return, he did not have any faith that they’d hold this time. 

The festival of Thoth earlier this month brought with it not only the new year and his own birthday, but also the return of the annual floods. While the river had started to rise, it wasn’t quite at its peak yet, so Jason still had some time to convince his mother they needed to start packing. However, she had become bedridden in these last few days, barely stirring to eat or drink. 

Jason cursed the temple of Serket once more. It was their fault this was happening. Priests and healers, they were all the same. They didn’t care. Even the Moon priest didn’t, not really. He was a charity case, something to make him feel better about himself in the eyes of Moon God. 

“The light of Ra watches over us by day while the pale eye of Thoth guides us through the night,” he muttered the old prayer as he approached his small house. The muddy ground beneath his feet squished, signaling it was time to go whether his mom wanted to or not. “If they cared at all, then Mom would be healthy.” 

The old complaint fell on deaf ears, as usual. But what did he expect? A god to come rising out of the river to fix all his problems? Ha! The only thing that came out of the river were crocodiles and the occasional hippo. 

His small home came into sight and Jason peered over his shoulder one last time. The feeling of being watched was still keeping the hair on his neck standing on end, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He pushed aside the reed mat that hung over the entrance.

“Mom?” he asked, voice pitched low out of habit. 

His mother’s huddled form still lay in the corner where he’d left her earlier, a thin, but well-woven blanket protecting her from the damp. From the look of it, she had barely moved at all while he’d been gone. 

Sighing, he set his full pouch on the small woven mat in front of the cold brazier. It hadn’t been lit once in the months since the harvest, the time of Low Water bringing with it heat that lingered even at night. 

“Mom?” he asked again, this time a little louder. “I got some fresh figs for breakfast. They’re mostly ripe too.” 

His mother didn’t move, didn’t even stir. He scooted over, his bare knees scraping across the clay floor as he moved to kneel beside the sleeping mat. “C’mon, Mom. You need to eat.” 

Nothing. By now, she would have shifted in discomfort, or whispered to let her rest. Panic started to creep up Jason’s spine as he gently shook her motionless body. “Mom, wake up. You’re scarin’ me. C’mon, Mom.” 

He rolled her over onto her back. Empty eyes stared up at him in the morning light and a small trickle of dried blood smeared the corner of her mouth. 

“No!” Jason shouted, shaking her harder. His heart sank even as hot tears clouded his vision. “No, you’ve gotta wake up, Mom. You’ve gotta!” 

A cool hand touched Jason’s shoulder and he lashed out, striking not the guard, but the Moon priest from earlier. He paused, stunned that this was who he’d sensed following him. 

“Let me look at her,” the man said calmly. It didn’t seem to faze him in the slightest that he’d just been punched in the face. 

“She’s gotta wake up,” Jason sniffled, moving even though it meant leaving his mother’s side. “She’s all I got.” 

“I know,” the priest replied, pulling the blanket aside while placing a hand against the skin of his mother’s neck. After a moment, he spoke again. “Your mother is gone, boy. Anubis has come to guide her along the path to the otherworld.” 

“No.” Jason lurched to his feet and started backing away. “No, she can’t. I was taking care of her...” 

“I am certain you were, but even under the best of circumstances, some people are too far along for anyone but Osiris to care for.” The priest stood and wiped his hands on the clean linen wrapped around his waist. “I know this is sudden, but did she have any funeral arrangements in place? A spot in the desert she favored for her burial?” 

Jason shook his head, utterly numb as the reality of the priest’s words sank in. His mom was gone. He was _alone_. Barely eleven years old and now he didn’t have anyone in the whole world he could trust or rely on. His mom had always been there for him. They had each other and that was enough. 

And now, he didn’t even have that.

Tears streamed down his dirty face. He wiped angrily at his eyes and sniffled. “I dunno,” he replied, thick and harsh as he tried to choke down the rising panic. “We got nothin’.”

“I can see that,” the priest said, but it was calm, like he was stating a fact rather than casting judgement. Did he even have another tone of voice? “Would you like my help?”

A burial by a priest of Thoth? The offer cut through Jason’s tears and he nodded. “Mom always swore by the Moon.”

“Then I will perform the rites myself.” The priest knelt once more, heedless of the dusty floor Jason tried hard to keep clean, and rearranged the body so that it laid in repose with her arms crossed over her chest. He reached into his pouch and withdrew a cone of incense, lighting it using some trick Jason couldn’t quite make out before he started reciting the prayers for the dead. 

Strangely, the priest spoke his mother’s name during the invocations, even though he never asked what it was. Jason must have spoken it during his panicked grief; everything was blurring together so it was the only explanation that made sense. He knelt beside the priest and prayed with all his might that his mother was judged worthy of the otherworld. She wasn’t perfect, but she had done the best she could. 

The funeral was the next day and, as Jason expected, it was sparse. There was nothing he could barter for even the most basic of mummification rituals, so he had to trust that the Moon priest would send his mother off properly. She didn’t deserve to be a ghost, wandering lost in the desert. 

One of his neighbors, a kind woman he would run errands for sometimes, helped him wash his mother’s body and wrapped it for burial. The linen she provided was barely more than rags, so it was a relief when the Moon priest returned and brought with him a long swath of fabric for them to use.

No mourners accompanied them on the trek across the river to the western banks and into desert. Jason dug the hole himself and lowered his mother’s wrapped body into the sand with the help of the priest, facing west into the setting sun. With her, he placed the one item of worth in their little home – the finely woven piece of fabric that she’d slept with each night. Beside it, he placed a crudely carved shabti he’d spent the previous night whittling. His mother deserved to enjoy the afterlife, not spend all her time working. 

The priest spoke his prayers and when he fell silent, he tossed a few bundles of dried herbs into the hole before gesturing to Jason to fill it in. “In time, the sands and the heat of the sun will preserve your mother’s body. These are to ensure she has that time.” 

Jason knew what he meant. Jackals. “Thank you,” he said, voice small as he picked up his borrowed shovel. 

When it was over, the priest stood with Jason and together they watched the sunset, the desert sands turning red in the fading light. The man clasped a hand on his shoulder and tugged slightly. “Look,” he said, turning them to point at the eastern sky. 

Jason’s eyes widened as he took in the moon. It was huge, pale yellow in the twilight, and so very full as it rose over the dunes. “The eye of Thoth,” he murmured. “He’s watchin’.”

“He is,” the priest agreed, gaze intent on the distant moon. “What will you do now, Jason?” 

There were not many options for a boy Jason’s age. He was too young for hard labor and he had no father to learn a trade from. There were gangs he could work for and it wasn’t uncommon for parentless children like him to be taken in. However, it was rare to see those kids ever again. Rumors of trade ships that left the harbor under the veil of night were rampant, and Jason had no desire to become a slave or worse in a faraway city. He already had more than enough experience with the vile tastes of the upper-class when they were hidden behind closed doors. 

Despite his history with members of high society, Jason squared his skinny little shoulders and bowed to the priest. There was an offer he had to make, even if it ended up coming back to bite him in the ass. The priest didn’t seem like the perverse type, but he’d been surprised before. 

“I got nothin’ to give ya, ta pay for what you’ve done. All I got is these.” He held up his hands and opened his palms. “I’ll work for ya. Whatever ya want done, I’ll do it. Mom wouldn’t want me ta offend a priest of Thoth.” 

The priest stared down at him with eyes that gleamed bright in the moonlight. Jason met his gaze head on, feeling like he was being picked apart and put back together again, weighed and judged like Ma’at was about to do with his mother’s soul. 

“I accept,” the man finally replied. “But on one condition.” 

“Name it.” Saying that hurt, but it wasn’t as though he had much of a choice in the matter. 

“You will enroll as a novice in the Temple of Thoth.”

Jason startled so badly he slipped on the sand. “The fuck? I don’t got the money for that!” 

“You don’t need money, Jason.” The priest was obviously amused by his reaction if the little smile playing on his lips was any indication. “All you need is the recommendation of a priest. And in case you missed it, I am a priest.” He gestured to the robes of his station, black and white that matched the ibis feathers woven in his hair.

“I hadn’t noticed,” Jason replied, cheeky because he didn’t have anything left to lose. It was just his luck that the man had a sense of humor. 

“I’d wondered.” The priest winked at him and pointed at the moon. “Swear by the Moon, Jason. You’ll serve me and Thoth for a year and a day. After that, you’re free to make your own decisions on whether you want to stay or if you’d rather make your own way in the world.” 

The boy looked to the man and then to the moon his mother loved so much. For a moment, he swore he heard the flutter of wings and when he blinked, the moon shone a pale blue, not unlike the shade of blue in the eyes of the priest beside to him. Jason blinked again, and the moon was back to normal. 

Great, now he was seeing things. He rubbed his eyes and contemplated the man before taking a deep breath. The air stirred around them, and as they observed one another beneath the canopy of the night sky, Jason was struck by the thought that it felt as if a thousand lifetimes were staring back at him. He couldn’t remember ever having experienced excitement and anxiousness simultaneously as he did right then. 

“I swear,” Jason said, proud that he’d managed to keep the tremor out of his voice. 

The priest smiled softly. “Good. Your work begins now, Novice.”

* * *

Life in the temple wasn’t easy for Jason. His life had never been what the priests like to call _structured_, so sticking to a schedule and being told what to do and when didn’t sit well with him. But he was here for a reason and that was to serve. Even if the Moon priest he swore his oath to all but disappeared the day after they arrived together. 

“Archivist Tim?” asked Dick, a temple novice one year older than Jason who was placed in charge of showing him around. “That’s who brought you here?” 

“So that’s who he is,” Jason muttered as he followed after the boy to the temple baths. Lower Got’ham, situated as it was on the coast, had no shortage of water like distant cities further inland apparently did. This meant the temple had elaborate baths for those who resided here. 

“You didn’t know?” the boy replied, not picking up on the fact Jason was talking to himself and didn’t expect an answer. “Archivist Tim is second only to High Priest Alfred right now. He’s usually third in line, but since the Seer died, he’s moved up the ranks.” 

“Seer?” Jason couldn’t help but ask. He’d barely been here two days and he hadn’t seen the priest, Tim, since they arrived. Too many things had happened over the last few days and he was having a hard time keeping track of it all. No one here seemed to care that he’d just lost his mother. 

“The Seer of Thoth,” the boy replied somewhat impatiently, like he was speaking to someone with a particularly thick skull. “The Seer sees with Thoth’s eyes. Past, present, and future.” 

“Oh.” It didn’t mean anything to Jason, but he hoped some form of acknowledgement would shut Dick up. He wasn’t interested in idle chatter with a know-it-all. Where was Tim anyway? 

“There hasn’t been a Seer for over a decade now,” Dick continued. Jason rolled his eyes. So much for that. “Rumor has it that the Pharaoh is displeased that he only has the Oracle of Ra to commune with the gods. The High Priest begged Thoth during the last festival to choose someone, but he didn’t. Again.” 

Jason let the boy ramble on as they entered the baths and focused on washing up. All of his previous baths had been in the river where he had to keep an eye out for crocodiles or hippos. This was a welcome change. Soap and clean water, clothes to scrub at his skin, and even another type of soap to wash his hair with that left it feeling softer than anything he’d touched before. There were lotions for his skin and even fine sticks of kohl to line his eyes with to help protect them from the glare of the sun.

Everything was new and, if he were being honest, overwhelming because it was so far removed from the life he’d been living just days before. Regular meals were nice though and he could deal with chores. He even had sandals for the first time in his life, which took some adjusting to. 

But he did not see Archivist Tim at all. It was frustrating as he was the reason he came here in the first place. Despite his vow to the moon, it was the priest he’d promised to serve.

More than anything though, he missed his mother. At night, he would curl up into a ball on his sleeping mat and tried not to cry. The tears still came, her memory was his only real companion in his loneliness. She was in the afterlife, he was certain of it, but that didn’t make his current situation any easier. 

The one thing Jason didn’t have any problem with was getting up early. He’d always been an early riser, which the priest in charge of the novices picked up on right away. This meant Jason ended up with kitchen duty more often than not, but he didn’t mind in the slightest. There was more food available than he’d ever seen in his life and under the guidance of the mistress of the kitchens, he was learning how to prepare it. Thanks to kitchen duty, he also got to eat before any of the other priests, acolytes, and novices rose and filed into the communal meal hall. 

Only the high priests of Thoth were served their meals separately. 

There were also cats that made their home in and around the kitchen, keeping the area free from rodents. The kitchen mistress kept a small idol to Bast in an out of the way corner and made certain to refill the small saucer with fresh milk every day. 

“This might be the Temple of the Moon, but with all the papyrus stored here, it might as well be a secondary temple to Bast,” she said to Jason early one morning, her tone more than a little conspiratorial. 

“The cats are everywhere?” He’d seen them ranging around the temple but hadn’t realized they were inside other parts of it too. The complex was vast, so much bigger than he’d ever realized when all he’d seen was the gardens. 

“That they are. Beautiful and cunning, and deadly when they need to be.” 

One of the cats butted its head against Jason’s calf and he bent over to pick her up. “Me and cats have always gotten along,” he said when the mistress’s eyes widened. “I’ve never met a cat who didn’t like me.”

Which was nice, because at least there was someone here who did. Everywhere he went outside the kitchens, comments and jabs of _charity case_, _street rat_, and _nobody_ followed him. 

Out on the streets, words like those would end up with Jason’s fist flying, but here, he didn’t have that luxury. There was a pecking order within these walls and while he may have been welcomed here under the request of the Archivist, no one else saw it that way and Jason was about as far down the ladder as he could possibly be. Fighting back and defending himself was not an option. 

He refused to be an embarrassment the Archivist, even if he was far from worthy of the priest’s notice. 

The last straw came when he and a few other relatively new novices were seated in sunny room for one of their daily lessons. The other novices were from noble houses; Jason already stood out with his untamed hair and darkly tanned skin. Today was the day he’d been dreading as they were supposed to start on some copy work for the temple library rather than listen to a lecture. 

He had never held a reed pen and ink in his life. 

It quickly became obvious when Jason couldn’t charge the reed and the priest came around to help him. 

“It’s simple enough,” he said, demonstrating with his own pen and ink. “Go on, try it.” 

Jason tried to mimic what he’d seen, he really did, but instead he managed to blot ink all over them both, staining their linen kilts. 

The priest sighed in disappointment. “Jason, do you even know how to hold a pen?” 

Around him, the other kids started snickering. Loudly. Hot tears filled Jason’s eyes and he blinked quickly, refusing to cry in front of everyone. He shook his head silently. 

“Looks like another strike for the charity case,” one of the boys commented in a snide tone that made Jason ball his fist under the table. “The only thing he’s good for is the kitchen.” 

Another boy laughed, sharp and bitter. “You really want a street rat that close to your food? Who knows what diseases he brought here with him?”

Even the priest chuckled slightly at that.

That did it. Jason stood abruptly and sniffed, rubbing his nose only to have the laughs grow louder as he smeared ink all over his face. “Just…just leave me alone!” he shouted, rushing out of the room. 

He hadn’t been at the temple long enough to learn all the best places to hide, so he ran blindly, dodging other priests and acolytes going about their duties. Most of these seemed to be reading and writing, or even the copy work he was supposed to be learning himself. 

Jason ran and ran until eventually there wasn’t anyone else around. He found a massive pillar to hide behind and sat heavily, drawing his knees up to his face as he started to cry in earnest. 

Crying wasn’t something he’d done often, but it was a regular occurrence since he arrived here. He had never felt so alone in his life. A strange new place, with few things that he understood or enjoyed and even fewer friendly faces. Even his annoying roommate Dick, the same one who ratted him out to the guard the morning his mother died, kept his distance after that first day. It wasn’t like Jason expected or hoped they’d be friends, but it hurt when he’d heard him do nothing but chatter with the other boys in the temple while ignoring him completely. 

Jason wanted his mom. He wanted to go back to the shitty hovel on the riverbank they called home. He wanted his life back. But none of that was going to happen. Not now. Not ever. 

He startled and jerked away when someone took a seat beside him, brushing his shoulder lightly as they did. A cool hand kept him in place, kept him from running once more. 

It was the Archivist. Tim. His pale blue eyes gazed steadily down at him, not a trace of sympathy or pity to be seen. It was the same gaze Jason felt when the priest asked him to come here and serve. Analyzing him. Taking him apart. 

He was sure that this time the priest was finding him even more lacking than before.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Jason muttered, rubbing his arm across his nose. He glared crossly at the black stain of ink and snot left behind. 

“I’ve been at Pharaoh’s palace,” the man replied calmly. “There was a rather complex trial and my opinion was needed to interpret the legal codices and texts. It’s part of what I do. I just returned last night.” 

“You left me here alone for two _decans__? _You’re an asshole.” It slipped out before Jason could stop himself, which made him curse even more. He was making a mess of things again. 

“Well, I couldn’t exactly bring an urchin who hadn’t even washed the dust of the streets off his feet into the Pharaoh’s palace, now could I?” Tim countered. 

Jason sniffed again and rubbed his head because the priest had him there. “No, I suppose not.” 

“The trial is over now, and I’ve resumed my duties here,” the priest continued. “Tell me about your experiences since you arrived.” A cool finger tapped the tip of Jason’s nose, making sure he had his attention. “Don’t hold back either.” 

“You sure ya wanna hear everythin’?” He was positive the man didn’t want to listen to him badmouth everyone here, but there really had been very few positive points since his entire life had turned upside down. 

“Everything.”

* * *

Tim didn’t know what to make of the crying child he found hiding in his sacred hall. This part of the temple was normally closed off to all but himself and the High Priest. And the Seer, when there was one. But he could sense the pain and frustration radiating off Jason and he remembered that this was a boy who had just lost his mother and was trying to acclimate to a life he’d never known before. It was very likely he had no idea where he was at the moment. 

The boy was also a mess, literally, covered in black ink that was smeared all over his face from where he kept wiping tears away with his stained hands. For the first time in his long life, Tim wondered if this was what it felt like to have a child. After all, he had brought Jason to this place, and just as quickly had to leave. This mess was at least partly of his own making. 

He listened in earnest to what Jason had to say. The boy’s accent was charming in an uncouth manner and his observations about people in general had Tim smiling more than once. But he now understood why so many of the others were making life miserable for the child. Jason was smart, there was no doubt in his mind about it, but he needed to be taught things that the other novices had already mastered, such as proper speech and how to hold a reed pen. 

There were slivers of brightness in Jason’s story. He told Tim about his first bath here and getting his sandals, which were now ink-splattered, of course. His first real meal, and how he had become friends with the cats in the kitchen who kept the rats out of the grain sacks. 

“A secret follower of Bast, perhaps?” Tim teased when he heard this. It reminded him of how nimble Jason was, the day they first met. 

“Nah,” Jason shrugged. “Cats don’t judge, ‘specially if you pet ‘em just right.” 

So very true. 

By the time Jason finished, he had stopped sniffling and sat staring at his bony knees, his hands still clasped tightly around his legs. “I’m sorry for runnin’,” he said, not looking at Tim at all.

“And I’m sorry I didn’t check up on you,” he replied and patted Jason’s head awkwardly. “I didn’t think it would be this hard.” He should have though. He could have looked and seen for himself, but as usual, once he got involved and focused on some intriguing task, he lost all sense of time. Steph called him out on it often. 

Jason shrugged, his shoulders still thin even after two decans of regular meals. “Why would ya? I heard yer like, second in command around here or somethin’.” 

Or something. Tim chuckled to himself. If he only knew…

“I’m the Archivist,” he said instead. “I’m the one in charge of order and maintaining the temple library, ensuring its preservation, as well as any new materials coming in. I also oversee the palace library. When I’m not doing that, I’m occasionally called forth to give an opinion on legal texts and precedence.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Precedence is looking through older legal cases to see if there have been similar incidences and learn how those were judged.” 

Jason nodded. “So then the judge or even the Pharaoh can use that t’help make their decision, right?”

Tim fought back a grin. He knew the boy was sharp, but this just cinched it. “Exactly.” 

Standing, he made a show of stretching and held out his hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up and then you can come with me.” The boy took it warily, no doubt nervous about getting Tim’s hand stained. “I get ink all over my fingers quite often,” he said with a wink. 

It seemed to help as Jason relaxed, however minutely. “Where we goin’ after?” he asked. 

“To teach you how to hold a pen.”

* * *

Jason thrived in the temple after Tim’s return. Most of his lessons were now under the Archivist’s direct supervision and what was once a sore spot now became his favorite time of day. Prayers still didn’t mean much to him, or the enforced meditation, and the ceremonies in the morning and night bored him nearly to tears, but as soon as he was free, he scampered off to the library and Tim’s office, tucked away in a far corner where no one ever seemed to wander besides him. 

In the beginning, astrology and mathematics were his favorite areas of study since neither involved much reading. That changed once he learned how and he’d spend hours pouring over texts, asking Tim for help when he needed it. All the stories. History. He devoured it all. But writing… 

Tim raised his oh-so-expressive eyebrow at the chicken scratch on the papyrus before him. “Well, you _are_ getting better,” he offered. 

“It’s been six months,” Jason retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. “That still looks like shit.” 

“It just means there’s still room for improvement.” Tim returned the paper to Jason so he could carefully bleach out the ink and start over. He’d gotten very good at that part. 

“Can we just accept the fact that I can’t write to save my life and move on?”

“No. Keep practicing. You’ll get the hang of it eventually.” 

Time, as it so often did, flew by. 

Jason still mourned the loss of his mother, but he found comfort knowing he was in a place where she could be proud of him. His day to day life improved once his studies were taken over by the Archivist. Most of the other novices ignored him now, not wanting to get on Tim’s bad side. The priest could be scary as hell when he wanted to be and he didn’t hesitate to turn that cool glare on anyone who made a snarky comment about the newest novice he’d taken under his wing. 

The only one who really talked to him was Dick, his roommate. It seemed he had also needed an adjustment period because soon enough, they were thick as thieves. Jason learned the boy was from a low social status like him and had only been in the temple for about a year. His parents had been court entertainers for the Pharaoh and when they died in a horrific accident, the Pharaoh himself placed their son in the Temple of Thoth. 

“Sometimes I wish he’d sent me to Serket or even Ma’at,” Dick said one day when they were in the temple garden picking weeds. They both preferred outdoor chores and were usually able to swap with novices who didn’t. “I like helping people and I believe in justice.” 

It made perfect sense to Jason, considering his parents were murdered. Helping people in the name of justice, he thought, suited Dick better than revenge. 

“Why didn’t ya ask?” Jason tugged at a particularly stubborn weed and almost fell on his butt when it gave way. 

Dick laughed at him because that was what he did. “Because the Pharaoh was already doing me a massive favor. Who am I to make requests like that?” 

Jason got it. Oh, did he ever.

The year passed, and Jason often felt as though he was getting more out of his agreement than Tim was, but when the man let him, he tried his best to serve. This typically involved Jason badgering the priest to get some sleep. The Archivist kept long hours and only went to bed just after dawn most days. Tim swore he didn’t need that much sleep and glared sullenly when Jason pointed out the dark smudges under his eyes that stated otherwise. 

“How do you know that’s not kohl?” 

“Does it look like I was born yesterday? Go to bed.” 

“Are you the Archivist?”

“Nope, but if you keep this up, I know someone who thinks they’d be great for the job.” 

Tim glared, affronted that Jason could even suggest such a thing. “You?” 

“Don’t be silly. You still haven’t taught me how to write properly.” 

“It’s a work in progress.” 

“So’s your sleepin’ habits, now go to bed.” 

Soon, sooner than Jason thought possible, the temple started readying for the annual festival of Thoth, recognizing not only the New Year, but heralding the start of the Got’ham River floods as well. The Five Days Upon the Year celebrating the birth of the main pantheon was just days away and those who served the Temple of the Moon were hard at work to ensure their god’s birthday was honored to its fullest. 

As Jason walked down the hall to Tim’s office the day before Thoth’s Day, it occurred to him that he’d never told Tim when his birthday was. Through the will of the gods, births were not recorded during the Five Days. However, his mom always celebrated his birthday on the same day as Thoth’s. 

“You arrived in the evening on His day,” she’d tell him each year, holding him close and pressing a kiss to his brow. “My gift from Thoth.” 

He wondered what Tim would make of that. 

When Jason arrived in Tim’s office, he was surprised to see nothing had been set out for his lessons. Usually Tim was on top of these things, but the man was seated behind his low work table waiting for him, hands propped under his chin watching him intently. 

“What’s up?” Jason asked as he toke his usual seat on the floor, kneeling first, then giving that up as a lost cause and crossing his legs on the woven mat. His knees had been aching recently, which Tim said was him entering a growth spurt. “Have a change of plans today?” 

“Sort of,” Tim replied, pale eyes seemingly taking him apart and putting him back together again. It no longer bothered Jason the way he did that; if anything, he took secret joy in knowing it scared the crap out of the other novices when the Archivist did it to them. “I thought we’d have a little chat considering the next few days will be busy ones. However, it looks like you’ve got something on your mind?” 

How did he do that? Jason swore Tim was able to read minds, even if he tried to pass it off as astrology and knowing the star signs. “I was just thinkin’ on the way here that I never told you when my birthday is.” 

Tim gave him a quizzical look as he clearly tried to remember. Perhaps he wasn’t a mind-reader after all. “No, I don’t you ever did. You mentioned you were eleven, but that was all. I had assumed you told the Master of Novices when he was establishing your records.” 

Jason bit the inside of his lip. “Sorta? I might have lied when I said it was durin’ Thoth’s month.” 

“Why?” Tim’s gaze sharpened.

“Because technically, no one is supposed to be born when I was.” Jason glanced down at his lap. It was safer than keeping eye contact. “My mom, she always said I was born on the evening of Thoth’s Day.” 

* * *

It was a good that Jason wasn’t looking at him, otherwise he would have wondered why Tim almost fell out of his chair. 

Jason was born on _his_ day? How was that even possible? His brethren were selfish, himself included, and liked having their own supposed days of birth. Raven even made it so that births in these lands occurred outside of the Five Days Upon the Year that honored the gods and their own birthdays. There was only one possible explanation. 

“Tell me, Jason– were you born on these shores?” 

The boy shrugged. “I thought I was? Mom never mentioned livin’ anywhere else, but I know my dad was a foreign sailor. I always thought that had somethin’ to do with it?” 

It made a certain amount of sense, but Jason was far from being the only mixed blood child to be born in Lower Got’ham. 

“I suppose only Ra or Osiris would know now,” Tim made himself say. He’d find out for certain, even if he had to pay Kon a visit to get the information out of Jason’s mother directly. 

Although, now that he thought about it, it actually made what he wanted to ask Jason today that much easier. 

He had chosen his new Seer. Now all that was left to do was see if the boy wanted it, if he intended to stay. His year and a day was almost over and for all their jokes about Jason and his penmanship, the former street urchin had learned so much during his sojourn here in the Temple of the Moon. But if the boy did not wish to stay, then Tim would not force him. 

Being his eyes was not an easy task. 

“I guess,” Jason replied, shifting around and raising his head. “So, whaddya wanna talk about? I don’t see my practice scrolls or pens anywhere.” 

Perceptive little brat. Yes, he would do nicely. Tim would make sure of it. He did not want to lose another Seer like he had before. These men and women, they were his eyes, an extension of him. His gift to the kingdom of Got’ham. 

“Your future,” Tim stated. “Your year and a day will be up shortly after the festival is over. I was wondering if you’d given any thought to that.” 

Jason stiffened and took a deep breath, ordering his thoughts before speaking. It was a lesson that was hard won over the last year, but finally, the boy was learning to think before he spoke. 

If only they could do something about the_ way_ he spoke. His lower-class accent was thick, especially when he was excited or upset. Tim sensed he’d be tackling that battle next. Perhaps Alfred had some ideas.

“I wanna stay,” Jason replied, voice firm and decisive, which made Tim’s heart soar. 

Here was his new Seer. This small boy who had so much still to learn before he could even begin to shoulder that burden. 

Jason wasn’t done yet. “But, Tim, I know you’re footin’ the ledger for me to even be here. All of this?” He gestured to the clean linen wrapped around his waist and his sandals, then to the room in general. “It’s gotta be costin’ ya, and I can’t pay that back. Everything I have now, it’s because of you. So you tell me, d’ya want me to stay?” 

He was the only one in the temple aside from the High Priest who called Tim by name. Everyone else observed the proper formalities and used his title, _Archivist_. It was a privilege, one that the boy knew he hadn’t earned, yet Tim allowed because Jason lacked any respect for authority_._

Jason’s regular response was if it really bothered him, he’d make him stop. 

Tim never did. 

“I want you to stay, Jason. It has been an honor and a privilege to teach you over the last year, but also to get to know you. As you’ve undoubtedly seen, I am relatively sheltered here, so seeing the world through your eyes has been an enlightening experience.” 

It almost hurt knowing what he’d be subjecting him to. Tim did not think he was a demanding god, but Jason would soon be marked as his for the rest of his life. The only other god who could do a damn thing about it was Kon and he’d already sworn that he did not plan to take his new Seer any time soon. 

Not that he’d planned to accept the soul of his previous Seer when he did either. It was yet another indication that outside influences were at work. Who dared to interfere with him? 

Jason broke away from his gaze to look down at the floor again. Humans loved to do that when they were unsure of themselves and Tim added another mental note to his list. His Seer would not be uncertain of himself, ever. “I’ve done hardly nothin’ for ya,” he came back with. “I’m a burden.” 

“It is my burden to bear, Jason. And it has not been a tedious one,” Tim replied. “If you wish to stay, stay. There is still so much more that I can teach you.” 

He looked up and sure enough, there was that cheeky little smirk on the boy’s face. “You sure about that? Because it’s sure as hell not calligraphy.”

* * *

Tim felt much better after his conversation with Jason and promptly went about his own preparations to make his decision known. 

The last year solidified his early suspicions about the boy. Jason was smart, quick witted, and possessed a keen insight into topics that were usually over most people’s heads. He saw right to the heart of the matter – _cutting through the bullshit_ as he would say – which was a valuable skill for one who would be gifted with the sight of a god. Besides his intelligence and hunger for knowledge, Jason was above all else humble, and never once forgot where he came from. Blood was not something Tim took into consideration when choosing a Seer as each person took the gift and molded it into their own. 

No, he relied on their actions and the weight of their soul to help him decide. There was no doubt in his mind that in time, Jason would see it as a blessing and a curse in equal measure, but he was certain the novice would endure. 

Because Tim would make damn sure he survived. 

The next night was not a full moon, but it was Thoth’s Day and the last night of the Five Days, which lead directly into his month. As such, it was one of two occasions during the year in which the great basalt statue of Thoth was removed from his private sanctuary in the temple proper for every one of his priests, acolytes, and novices to pray before. On this night, they offered prayers of thanksgiving and good fortune, wishing him a joyous year to come. 

Oh, it would be, that much was certain. 

He could be excused for what Alfred would undoubtedly call a _case of theatrics_. It wasn’t every day he chose a new Seer and his temple had been without one for so long. Cassie’s Oracle would finally have someone to balance out her duties, which she’d been harping about recently since her current one was getting on in years. Her powers of intuition were still unparalleled, exceeded only by those of the gods. Her lifeforce, however, was weakening, and there was nothing to be done for her ailing body as the gods frowned upon interfering in the natural human affliction of age. 

The next Oracle had at least been selected and was already in the midst of training with her predecessor. Jason wouldn’t have this same luxury and would need to rely on the lessons left by those who came before him to puzzle out the ways of the Seer. Tim would help where he could, but even his role as the Archivist wouldn’t grant him much knowledge there. He’d have to find other ways. 

The invocations brought Tim back to the present as his High Priest started to perform the customary rituals signaling the close of the ceremony. Alfred was very competent at what he did and was honestly one of Tim’s favorites out of all the men and women to have been in the role. He suspected the old man knew who he really was, avatar and all, but it was not exactly a topic they broached regular conversation. 

At the close of the ritual and recitations, Alfred finally asked the question Tim had been waiting for. The old priest asked it every time his statue was brought out and more than a few times when it wasn’t. “Our divine Thoth of the Rising Moon, Reckoner of Years, Lord of Laws, of Time, Counter of Stars, Warden of Wisdom, and He Who Balances, hast thou chosen a new Seer to bless this land with your sight?” 

Tim grinned to himself as he reached out with his soul, sending forth his power toward the imposing basalt statue. 

Why, yes. He had. 

Closing his eyes in one form, he opened them in another. The black statue thrummed to life as his _ka_ inhabited the stone, changing it to a mimicry of living flesh. It was not something Tim enjoyed doing all that often as having a bird’s head was rather strange, even if the wings were in keeping with his true form. Each step was heavy as he strode across the dais, down the shallow steps, and onto the floor where his followers knelt, each one now prostrating themselves and murmuring prayers as he walked amongst them. 

Behind him, Alfred rose and but didn’t follow, having experienced this twice before. Tim could tell he was grinning, even if he made no outward show of it. 

At the back of the temple hall were the novices. Tim observed that several were shivering in fear as they felt his presence. As well they should since many of them were instigators of Jason’s bullying. Developing a thick skin was all well and good, but _no one_ was allowed to harm his Seer. 

Tim stopped before Jason’s kneeling form. “Rise, my child,” he intoned in a sonorous voice.

Jason shivered and looked up, uncertainty clouding his blue-green eyes. He swallowed hard, but rose to his knees, daring to look directly at him rather than avert his gaze.

Cheeky brat. 

Reaching out, Tim laid his hand on Jason’s forehead, combing his fingers through the boy’s wavy black hair. He was almost at the age where most youths started shaving their heads like men, but this touch would ensure these locks were never shorn off. 

The hair over the center of Jason’s forehead turned white. Hushed whispers of excitement surged through the courtyard as his followers witnessed the moment they had been waiting over ten long years for. 

Pleased, Tim held out his hand for the boy to accept. He did so without hesitation, rising to his feet at the gentle tug. His gaze never wavered, which made him even more proud. “My eyes are your eyes. My vision, my words, will be yours to share with the world. You are my Seer.” 

He squeezed Jason’s hand once more and led him to the front of the hall. His hand was warm in his cool palm, a fact he wondered if Jason would pick up on. He could never get a handle on regulating body heat properly. Yet another thing Steph and especially Cassie tormented him about. But they were both sun goddesses, so that wasn’t much of a surprise. Besides, Cass had a similar problem, even though they never made fun of her. 

At the dais, he left Jason with Alfred and stepped back up onto his pedestal. Turning around to face his followers, Tim closed his eyes and the temporary body returned to stone. Upon opening his eyes in his human form, he spotted Jason and the rising panic in the young boy as Alfred pronounced him the new Seer of Thoth.

Rising, Tim took his place on Jason’s left side, bracketing him securely between himself and the High Priest. He placed a cool hand on the small of Jason’s back and whispered, “It’ll be alright.” 

“Did you know this was gonna happen?” Jason hissed, barely moving his lips. 

Tim carefully tried to hide his smirk. “Of course not. Who can know the mind of a god?”

* * *

“And so, the young boy was chosen as the new Seer of Thoth. Rather than making his life easier, it made it just that much more difficult.” 

“I didn’t hear you complaining.” 

“I complained all the time. What were you, deaf?” 

“I’m sorry, I must have missed all of that when you discovered what sex was. You and Dick…” 

“Puberty was a blessing and a curse, especially when the one I wanted most just so happened to be my primary teacher.” 

“That changed eventually.” 

“Uh, you do remember everything we went through before we even had our first kiss, right?” 

“The memory of what happened immediately after still clouds my joy of that moment.” 

“I like to think we made up for it.” 

“We certainly did.” 

“Okay, so with this chapter over, we’re moving on to chapter two and what I like to call the year I fucked everything up.” 

“Ugh. Really, Jason?” 

“Yes, really. My story, my transitions. Deal with it.” 

“Like I’ve been dealing with your chicken scratch all these years.” 

_“Moving on…”_

**Author's Note:**

> I feel the need to point out that this story is Ancient Egyptian _inspired_ and while we spent hours in our respective areas of research, we are by no means Egyptologists. History and mythology, the Egyptian pantheon, culture -- we did our best, but at some point, the fiction hat must be worn.


End file.
